


Get Cool

by sweetiepie08



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Gen, Ice Skating AU, knife shoe au, sharpace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-06-13 06:58:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15358818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetiepie08/pseuds/sweetiepie08
Summary: Miguel loves to skate and he loves competing at skating, but he wishes he had more chances to skate with the rest of his team. The opportunity arises when his team is invited to perform a group routine at a charity showcase. However, when half his team suddenly falls ill, they are forced to either pull their performance or combine with their rivals, the De la Cruz team.





	1. The Team Up

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an au created by Sharpace on tumblr. Check out her work here. https://sharpace.tumblr.com/

“Get off our ice!”

“You only want this time because you know it’s our time!”

“I will not stand for such accusations!”

“You’re just trying to keep us from practicing for L.A.!”

“What are you implying?”

“I’m implying nothing! I’m stating it out right, saboteur!”

Miguel sighed and sunk his face further into his hands. Every. Single. Time. He and his team sat on the bleachers while their coaches bickered about rink times. You’d think by now there’d be a time slot sign-up list or something. Why couldn’t they just skate?

He glanced over at Team De la Cruz. They looked just as bored as he did. Though, he noticed a few kids were missing. Sick? Injury? It didn’t matter.

This was going to go the way it always went. They’d argue until the rink manager came out and forced them to compromise. One team would get to practice while the other team waited around for their turn. Their coaches would glare & make snide remarks at each other. He’d ride home with Tío Héctor & Tía Imelda grumbling about “that De la Cruz.” Then they’d get to do it all over again the next day. At least it was Friday. They had a whole two days before they had to sit through this again.

 _Oh look, here he comes now._ A sweaty, balding man walked up to the rink wall. The coaches skated over to him and, after much complaining and arm flailing, Ernesto slinked back to his team, glaring, while the Riveras called their team onto the ice. Miguel predicted this outcome too. De la Cruz had the ice first yesterday, so naturally it was their turn.

“You guys have schoolwork?” Ernesto grumbled to his team. They all nodded in reply. “Well go do it. They’ve got the ice until four.”

Miguel put on his skates and joined his team on the ice. _Finally…_ Just once he’d like to have a practice that didn’t have time dedicated to drama.

[-]

After practice, Miguel waited on a bench while Héctor and Imelda talked to the rink manager about time slots. Yet another thing he wished they didn’t have to waste time on. At least twice a week, the rink manager threated to kick out both teams, but they all knew these threats were empty. It’d be bad publicity for everyone and no one wanted that.

“Well if that’s the way you want it!”

Miguel turned to see Ernesto holding a phone to his ear and his face turning red.

“Just see if you can find a better trainer. Don’t come crawling back to me.” He ended the call, muttered a few curse words, and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

 _Yeesh,_ Miguel did not envy the De la Cruz team.

“Did we lose another one?” asked Marco, De la Cuz’s star pupil, who’d been sitting close by.

“Never mind that,” Ernesto growled, running a hand over his face. “Just get on the ice.”

Marco and Ernesto stepped into the rink. _Geez, what was that all about?_ Miguel wondered. He didn’t have time to think on it as his teammates, Juan, Arturo, and David, approached him.

“Oye, Miguel,” called Juan as he got closer. “You sure you can’t come to my sleepover tonight? My mom still says it’s okay.”

“Sorry, it’s my Abuelita’s birthday. My family’s going out to eat to celebrate.”

“Too bad,” added Arturo, “it’s gonna be fun.”

Miguel sighed and glanced over at Héctor & Imelda who were finishing up their conversaTion with the rink manager. “Sorry, guys. Maybe next time.”

“Okay then. See you at practice,” said David. They all said goodbye and the three boys walked away. Miguel watched as the boys jumped into Juan’s mother’s minivan and drove away, wishing he was in that car, too. It wasn’t Abuelita’s birthday that was the problem. He wouldn’t mind missing the sleepover so much if he got to hang out with his friends on a regular basis. But there always seemed to be some excuse about why he couldn’t go. Just once, Miguel wished he could join in on the fun.

“Ready to go Chamaco?” A hand landed on the top of Miguel’s head. He looked up to see his Tío Héctor smiling down at him. “Don’t want to keep your Abuelita waiting, do we?”

 _You’ve got no problem keeping me waiting._ Miguel bit his tongue for even thinking that. His family already made sacrifices so he could compete. It really wasn’t fair to ask any more of them. “Sure,” he said, smiling himself. “Let’s Go.”

[-]

Monday morning rolled around. Miguel sat eating his breakfast while he listened to Tía Imelda field yet another phone call. This one was the third one this morning and they all went about the same.

“Alright, tell David we hope he feels better soon. Okay, bye.” Imelda hung up the phone and sighed.

Héctor frowned. “David, too?”

“What’s going on?” Miguel asked between bites.

Héctor and Imelda gave each other a look _. Oh no, not that look._ Adults always gave each other _that_ look right before delivering some bad news.

“It seems Arturo and David slept over at Juan’s over the weekend,” Héctor said.

“Yeah, I knew that.”

“Well, apparently Juan’s little sister had the flu, but she wasn’t showing symptoms yet,” Imelda continued. “The boys all caught it too. I told them to sit out for 2 weeks so it doesn’t spread to the rest of the team.”

“Two weeks? But what about the charity showcase?” He’d been looking forward to it. It was being put on by the Make-A-Wish foundation and they invited skaters from all over the world to be a part of it. Normally he skated solos but for the showcase, he’d be part of a group routine. He was supposed to get to spend more time with his teammates. He was supposed to get to skate without worrying about having to outscore the De la Cruz team. He was supposed to have _fun._ But they needed at least six skaters to participate in the group showcase, and if they were missing three…

“I’m sorry, Chamaco. Juan, Arturo, and David aren’t going to have enough practice time before the showcase. It looks like we have to pull out.”

“No!” Miguel shouted, slamming his hand on the table. “I want to skate! There must be some way we can still go!”

“I’m sorry, Miguel,” Imelda said. “There’ll be other shows.”

“Not like this!” Miguel wished he didn’t sound as whiney as he did, but he couldn’t help it. “I was going to get to skate with my friends for once.”

“Look, nothing’s set in stone yet,” Héctor added. “Let’s just have a good practice today, and we’ll see what happens.”

Miguel crossed his arms and sunk down in his chair. He hated when adults said ‘we’ll see.’ Did they really think he didn’t know what that actually meant? 

“Now, finish your breakfast.” Imelda had her coach voice on. She would hear no more complaining. “We need to get to practice.”

[-]

Practice started with the same old shtick: De la Cruz and the Riveras arguing over rink time. Once again, Miguel and his teammates were left waiting in the bleachers.

“So, we’re really pulling out?” Carlos asked.

Miguel nodded bitterly. “He said, ‘We’ll see.’”

The entire team groaned in unison. “We’ll see?” Antonio grumbled. “Do they think we’re stupid? We know what that means.”

Miguel nodded and glanced over at De la Cruz’s team. There were only three of them. The team had six only two weeks ago. Plus, there was that call he overheard on Friday. Were kids leaving De la Cruz’s team? If that was the case, they’d have to pull out too.

A light bulb went off in Miguel’s head. “Hey, guys,” He said, turning back to his teammates. “I think I know how we can stay in the showcase after all.”

“How?”

“The De la Cruz team.”

“What?” Antonio scoffed. “Are you crazy? Why would they help us?”

“Well, I was just thinking, since they have three skaters and we have three skaters…”

“But they might not go for it,” Carlos argued.

“It wouldn’t hurt to ask,” Miguel said, getting up.

“Asking in general, maybe, but asking them?”

Miguel rolled his eyes and started over. What was there to be scared of? Marco was mean sometimes, sure, but he wasn’t a monster. The De la Cruz team were just kids like them; kids who loved to skate. And if they said no, at least they tried, right?

As Miguel approached the De la Cruz team, Marco peaked over the sunglasses which he, for some reason, insisted on wearing indoors. Miguel heard Marco mutter “This ought to be good,” to his teammates, but pretended he hadn’t heard.

“Hi,” Miguel started off with a friendly smile, “my team and I were just talking and we noticed there’s only three of you.”

“Wow, you counted all the way to three?” Marco sneered. “Someone’s been watching his Plaza Sésamo.”

“Actually, it’s just called Sésamo now.” Miguel realizes his mistake when the De la Cruz team bursts into laughter. “My little cousins watch it. They’re five,” he said, attempting to recover, but he knew he’d already lost. The boys only laugh harder and Miguel felt the heat rising to his cheeks. “Anyway, I was thinking…”

“Oye! What’s Elmo up to these days?” One of the boys threw out.

 _Just ignore him._ “I was thinking since you have three skaters and we have three skaters…”

“Did Conde Contar teach you how to add?” Another boy said.

Miguel gritted his teeth and looked away. _Is this really worth it?_ “You know what, forget it,” he huffed and stormed off.

“Have fun with Abelardo!” one of the boys called after him, sending the rest of the team into hysterics all over again.

“Oye, Rivera!”

Miguel stopped at the sound of Marco’s voice. “What do you want?” he sighed turning around.

“Look, I think I know where you were going with that,” Macro said as he ran up to Miguel. “I noticed there were only three of your team, too.”

“Yeah, three of our teammates got the flu,” Miguel answered.

“And neither of our teams can go to the showcase with only three.”

Was this really happening? Were he and Marco really on the same page? “That’s why I was going to ask to team up.”

“I thought so,” Marco said with a nod. “What makes you think our coaches will go for it?”

They both looked over at their arguing coaches. Imelda and Ernesto were getting in each others’ faces. Héctor had his hand on Imelda’s shoulder, a subtle way to pull her back in case she decided to punch Ernesto in the nose…again.

Miguel put on his best optimistic smile. “Well, I’m sure if we told them we all agreed on the idea and told them we really wanted to perform…”

He was met with a roll of the eyes and a dismissive puff of air from Marco.

“Or, we could just forget the whole idea.” Miguel turned sharply and began walking back to his team. He wasn’t sure this would work, but if Marco chased him down the first time…

“Wait,” Marco called after him.

Miguel stopped and tried to fight down the cocky grin creeping to his lips. “Yes?”

Marco chewed on his bottom lip and glanced back and forth between Miguel and the coaches. Finally, he turned back to his team and demanded, “Justo, get out your phone.”

Justo crinkled his eyebrows and shot a look at the rest of his other teammate. “Why?” he asked, taking his phone out of his skating bag.

Marco marched up to him and the phone. “Because, I’m about to break into Coach’s email and I don’t want him to see it on my phone.”

Miguel looked over Marco’s shoulder as the other boy opened the email app and typed in Ernesto’s username and password. He scrolled past emails from parents, reporters, skating officials, and at least a couple dozen from some lady written in English. Finally, Marco stopped on the showcase invitation. He opened the email and clicked the link. “It doesn’t say anything about not teaming up. We might have to reregister under a new name, but that’s about it.”

“That’s it?

“That’s what I just said.” Marco tossed the phone back to Justo who scrambled to catch it. “We’d better ask, like, now, though. Registration closes today.”

“Wait, what’s going on?” asked Martín, the other De la Cruz team member.

“We’re teaming up with the Rivera team.” Marco’s answer left no room for discussion.

“Wait, we’re really teaming up?”

Miguel turned around to see Carlos and Antonio hovering behind him. “Well, if we want to perform, this might be the only option. If you guys are all down, we can get our coaches on board too.”

Carlos and Antonio deliberated for a second, then responded with a nod. Justo and Martin still looked unsure, but Marco shot them a glare and they agreed.

“Good, then it’s settled,” Marco declared. He dragged Miguel down from the bleachers and over to the rink side where the coaches were still fighting.

“Tío Héctor,” Miguel said, interrupting some insult Ernesto was about to launch.

“One second, Chamaco,” Héctor replied, still glaring at Ernesto. “We’re figuring this out.”

“Actually, while you guys were fighting,” Marco sneered, “ _we_ figured something out,”

All three coaches stopped, shot each other confused looks, then turned back to the kids. “What?” Héctor asked.

“What do you mean?” Imelda added.

“Neither of our teams have enough to perform at the showcase,” Marco began.

“Marco,” Ernesto hissed, “what are you doing spreading that around?”

“But, if we combine our teams, we’ll have enough skaters,” Miguel finished.

“We just need you guys to not kill each other for a month,” Marco added.

“We already looked it up. It’s not against any of the rules.”

Héctor and Imelda stared at each other in a way which made Miguel suspect telepathy existed. “It does make sense…” Héctor conceded.

“Did the rest of your teammates agree to this?” Imelda asked.

“We took an informal vote.”

“I’m okay with it if they are,” Héctor said.

Imelda nodded. “It would be good team building.”

“Well, I am not,” Ernesto snapped, folding his arms firmly across his chest. “Marco, you have your reputation to think about. You need to skate with teammates that are up to your caliber.”

“But, we all compete on the same level,” Marco argued. “He’s beaten me plenty of times.”

“Yeah and he’s won over me, too,” Miguel pointed out. This was so stupid. They were comparing ranks now? When there were more important things to worry about?

That’s not the point. You’re too talented, Marco. You don’t want to be held back by…

Ernesto’s phone buzzed in his jacket pocket. He looked at it, cringed, then stuffed it back in his pocket. “You’re sure this isn’t against any rules?” Ernesto asked through gritted teeth.

“Absolutely sure,” Marco confirmed.

“You guys would just have to reregister together,” Miguel added.

Ernesto ground his teeth behind his lips. Smoke would not be out of place coming out of his ears. His head looked like might turn into a cartoon firecracker and explode. He let out a long puff of air through his nose and finally answered, “Fine.”

The answer looked like it pained him, but Miguel paid him no mind. He turned to Marco and offered a celebratory high-five which the other boy, surprisingly obliged.

Miguel could feel his grin stretching across his face as he ran up to bleachers to tell the others. Finally, he was going to get to skate for _fun._


	2. The Sleepover

“The classics are boring. Everyone’s heard them a million times.

“The classics are classics because they’re classic. They’re timeless. That’s why people keep using them.”

“You want to be just like everyone else? No wonder your team never stands out.”

“What do you want to use? Some pop song that’ll be on the radio at least fifteen times today and forgotten by this time next year?”

And just like that, they were back on the bench. They’d done three days of running drills and perfecting their best moves. The coaches said it was because they were working with a new group of kids and needed to see what they could do. That was all well and good, but Miguel suspected it had more to do with the fact that they couldn’t agree on a song. _Pfft, forget song. They can’t even pick a genre._

“I thought the point of the team up was to be ready for the showcase in time,” Justo grumbled.

“You’re surprised?” Martin replied. “They waste time on drama when they’re separated. It’s not exactly shocking that they can’t work together.”

Miguel was afraid this might happen. He knew the other boys were just as sick of this as he was. Everyone hated waiting around for their coaches to stop arguing under normal circumstances. Now that they were forced to share the ice and the team… Still, they had to stop and pick something soon, right? They couldn’t possibly argue for three weeks straight, could they?

At the very least, he couldn’t let the already-waning team morale drop. He slapped a smile on his face and turned to his teammates. “They’re just perfectionists is all,” was Miguel’s dubious excuse. “I’m sure once they agree on music, it’ll be smooth sailing.”

“But then they have to agree on choreography,” Carlos put in. “And then they have to agree on the line-up, then on costuming, and then…”

“It’ll get done, I’m sure,” Miguel assured them. “They want to look good at the showcase just as much as we do.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Antonio asked.

“We’re already down three days of practice,” Justo added.

“We haven’t really skated together,” Carlos threw in. “What if we don’t develop a good team chemistry?”

Finally, Martin said what everyone was thinking. “If we don’t get started soon, we’ll look like idiots in front of everybody!”

 _At least the team is on the same page._ Miguel opened his mouth to try something more encouraging, when Marco slammed his hands on the bleachers with a resounding clang. He grumbled a couple of swear words Miguel wouldn’t dare say in public (lest they somehow got back to his Abuelita), and got up to walk away.

“Where are you going?” Miguel asked. “We’re in the middle of practice.”

“I’m going to find something to do that’s not a complete waste of time,” Marco snarled, then stormed off to the locker room.

“Why’d you have to make the ‘looking like idiots’ comment?” Justo grumbled, giving Martin a pop on the arm.

“It’s not my fault he’s so sensitive,” Matrin hissed back, rubbing his arm.

Sensing something was off, Miguel turned to the two of them. “Do you guys know what’s wrong?”

Justo let out an irritated sigh. “He always gets like this when he’s worried about a performance.”

“He thinks we don’t notice,” Martin added, “but we do.”

This was news to Miguel. The way Marco and his crew swaggered around the rink, you’d think they were born with their names imprinted on gold medals. “Maybe I should talk to him,” he said, hopping off of the bleachers.

“You can try,” Justo scoffed, “Just don’t let him bite your head off. We can’t afford to be down another skater.”

Miguel smiled and rolled his eyes at the comment, then made his way to the locker room. As soon as he opened the door, he heard music playing. It sounded familiar, in fact he heard it a million times coming from his mom’s little cd player while she did chores or worked on shoe designs. “Is that West Side Story?” He asked,

Marco practically jumped out of his skin as he fumbled to shut off his phone. “No! Shut up! Get out of here, Rivera!”

“It is!” he laughed as the musical interlude in Get Cool cut off mid-note. “My mom loves that movie.”

Marco shoved the phone back in his pocket and turned away. “Yeah, so? My mom likes it. So what?”

“I like it too,” Miguel said, trying his best to convey I’m-not-going-to-tease-you-about-this through his smile. “I’ve watched the movie with my mom a bunch of times. Have you seen it?”

Marco stiffened and gave a curt, “maybe.”

“It’d be cool if we could do something like that for the show.”

Marco looked up. His shoulders relaxed just a little. “You think?”

“Yeah, maybe it’d be cool to do the beginning, with the Sharks and the Jets dancing in the streets.”

“That could work,” Marco said, his face starting to light up. “Of course we’d have to cut the song down to accommodate the acceptable routine time for the showcase.”

“Of course,” Miguel agreed.

Marco almost smiled, but then his face dropped. “Our coaches will never go for it.”

Miguel smirked mischievously, dimple on full display. “What if we didn’t give them a choice?”

“What are you talking about?”

“We can get together with the rest of the team away from the coaches,” Miguel suggested. “We can vote on a song, and then we’ll make the cut ourselves. We’ll submit a copy of our music to the showcase people before our coaches get the chance to say no.”

A wicked grin grew across Marco’s face. “Rivera, are you suggesting deception? I always thought you were such a goodie-goodie.”

Miguel shrugged. “I’m a Slytherin. How squeaky clean can I be?”

“The Harry Potter reference undercuts it some,” Marco deadpanned, but his smile suggested he meant it playfully. “How are you planning on getting the team together.”

“Well, I was actually hoping for a sleepover.” Miguel looked away and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve actually never been to one before. Except, I don’t think my house would work. Santa Cecelia is about an hour and a half away and…”

“We can do it at my house,” Marco said as if it was already a done deal.

“Really?”

“Yeah, we don’t live far and I think I could get Ernesto to agree.”

“You think? Ernesto doesn’t seem like the sleepover-host type.” Miguel tried to imagine Ernesto De la Cruz entertaining a bunch of kids but the picture refused to come together in his mind.

“We’ll call it a team building exercise and promise not to interrupt his beauty sleep.” Marco dismissed. “Besides, my mom’ll be there and I know I can get her to say yes.”

“Alright, sounds like a plan.”

“Let’s go tell the others.” Macro brushed past him and headed for the doors. Before exiting, he stopped and turned back to Miguel. “Does it really take you and hour and a half to get here?”

“Almost.”

“Geez, no wonder you guys never take the early ice.”

[-]

When Marco and Miguel stepped out of the locker room, the rest of the team was already putting their skates on and getting on the ice.

“Where have you two been?” Imelda demanded, skating up to the side of the rink. Hector and Ernesto followed close behind.

“We’ve been taking and we think we need a team building activity to bring up morale,” Miguel said.

“What kind of activity?” Hector asked.

“I was thinking a sleepover,” Miguel answered. “It’d be good to get the whole team together to do something fun.”

“I already said we could do it at our house,” Marco added. We can take Miguel to practice tomorrow too, since you guys live so far.

“Our house?” Ernesto nearly shouted. “Maco, I don’t want to watch all these…”

“My mom’ll be there too,” Marco cut in. “And we’re not babies. We’ll probably just watch movies until we go to bed.”

“Which we promise will be at a reasonable hour,” Miguel added, trying to put on his best, most sincere smile. He made sure to show off the dimple side which he thought made him look more innocent.

Hector and Imelda looked at each other like they were having another one of their mental conversations. “I don’t have a problem with it,” Hector finally said.

“Neither do I,” Imelda agreed, “if it’s okay with Ernesto.”

Ernesto chewed his bottom lip and his eyes darted from Marco, to Miguel, and to Hector & Imelda. Mgiuel held his breath. This looked like it could go either way, and he didn’t want to say or do anything that might jeopardize it.

“I know Stephanie Tassinari’s team does it all the time.” Marco threw out. “I saw it on her Instagram.”

Ernesto sputtered out, “Why do you think I care what she does?”

Marco narrowed his eyes pointedly and flashed a smirk. “Isn’t she the American lady who you’re always…”

“Fine!” Ernesto said, throwing up his hands in defeat. “Okay, we can have the sleepover, but you’d better keep it down and go to bed when I say, alright?”

“Got it!” Marco said, then grabbed Miguel’s hand and pulled him away before the coaches could change their minds.

“You won’t even know we’re there,” Miguel tossed over his shoulder.

They put on their skates and went out onto the ice to tell the others. Miguel felt like he could jump the length of the rink. He was finally going to have a team sleepover. If they could just manage to keep the team from falling apart, this might actually turn out okay.

[-]

The boys were gathered in Macro’s living room. They were surprisingly quiet for bunch of 12-13 year olds but that was mostly because none of them wanted to ruin the plan by breaking one of Ernesto’s rules. They were allowed to go in the living room, kitchen, and bathroom. If they needed something out of Marco’s room, Marco had to be the one to get it. They were, under no circumstances allowed in Ernesto’s office. They could not adjust the volume on the TV and if he found a single finger print on his trophies the next morning, they would all be doing extra workouts.

At present, they sat scattered on the floor or the couch facing Marco and Miguel. Miguel held up a large whiteboard (which Marco got out of Ernesto’s office before the sleepover started, so they weren’t technically breaking any rules), while brandished a marker like a top military strategist.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Marco said, tapping a marker on whiteboard. “Our coaches are acting stupid. We’re going to make them not stupid.”

“How are we going to do that?” Martin asked.

“By taking matters into our own hands.” Marco popped the cap off of the marker and began writing a numbered list. “First of all, they won’t pick a song, so we did,” he said as he wrote _pick song_ next to the number 1.

“We’re going to vote on it, though,” Miguel added.

Marco rolled his eyes. “Right, we’re going to vote on it. Miguel and I already have a good idea, but we can see if anyone has sometime better. After the vote, we’re going to make a cut of the song together.” He wrote _cut song_ next to the number 2. “At the next practice, one of us is going to sneak into the sound booth and play the song while the rest of us take turns showing off our best skills.”

“What if the coaches try to stop us?” Carlos asked.

“Skate over them.” Marco turned back to the board. “The last step is that we’ll send the music in for approval before the next practice.”

“Without telling the coachers?”

“They can’t pick a song, so we’re picking for them,” Marco said matter-of-fact.

“We know it’s not the most honest thing to do, but we need to do something to get the practices back on track.” Miguel added. “Maybe if we prove that we’re taking this seriously, they’ll start taking it seriously.”

“And if they’re going to act like whining babies, we’re going to treat them like whining babies,” Marco finished, crossing his arms.

“So what’s your idea?” Justo asked.

Marco looked at Miguel and nodded his head toward their small audience.

“You know West Side Story?” Miguel began, “We were thinking of doing a cut of the opening. It’s modern enough that Ernesto will be happy, and it’s a Broadway classic, so Hector & Imelda will be happy. Plus it’s all instrumental, so we don’t have to worry about the show runners not liking a lyric or something.”

The boys all agreed and no one had any ideas they wanted to put forth, so they took an official vote and their music was chosen. The problems came when it was time to cut the music. Miguel was the only one who’d ever cut music before and the other boys didn’t know where to begin. Marco tried to help, but he knew Miguel had a better ear for music, so, he gave Miguel a set of headphones and told him to have at it.

The other boys might have felt a little bad about leaving Miguel to do all of the work, but he didn’t mind. Choosing music was one of his favorite parts of starting a new routine and his Tio Hector had been letting him cut his own music all year. He actually enjoyed sitting in his room with his headphones and coming up with new mixes, even if they were one’s he’d never get to use in a performance. Plus, as soon as he was done, he could join the rest of his team, who at the moment were browsing through Macro’s movie collection.

“It almost done?” Marco asked, sitting down on the couch next to him.

“Just about.”

“Cool. Hand me the laptop when you’re done so I can send the file.” Marco went quiet for a minute then said, “You know, this is pretty okay.”

“What do you mean?” Miguel asked, not looking up from the laptop.

“I’ve never hung out with the team outside of practice before.”

Miguel stopped and slid his headphones off of his ears. “Never?” Macro couldn’t really mean never, could he? Miguel didn’t get the opportunity to hang out with his teammates as much as he liked to, since he lived so far away, but he still got to have fun with them some of the time. Sometimes, Hector and Imelda let him hang around to get something to eat and he spent plenty of time with them at away meets. One of his favorite memories was of the time he and Antonio ran around the hotel late at night looking for a working ice machine and kept running into an older couple trying to do the same thing. Had Marco seriously never done anything like that?

Marco shook his head. “Ernesto says I shouldn’t have too many distractions. If I want an Olympic gold before I’m 18, I need to focus.”

“Why 18?”

“Well, youngest Olympic gold in figure skating ever was Yulia Lipnitskaya in 2014 at age 15.” Marco said, beginning to fidget with a loose string on the end of his t-shirt. “It used to be Tara Lapinski also at 15, but Yulia beat her by a few days. I’ll be 15 in only 3 years. I don’t think I’ll be ready by then. But youngest men’s is 18. I think I can beat that. But then, the youngest medalist in men’s figure skating got bronze when he was only 14 and that’s 2 years away. What if I wait too long and only get bronze?”

Miguel bit his tongue. He was sure Marco didn’t need to be reminded that Mexico doesn’t always participate in the Winter Olympics. “You know, most kids our age are worried about math tests and stuff.”

Marco’s back stiffened. “I am not most kids.”

“That’s kind of what I mean. We’re already doing a lot of stuff most kids only dream of. Why do you need to break records? It’d be cool and all, but not if it’s killing you.”

“Who said it’s killing me?” Marco said, looking away. “And I need to break records because I need to prove I’m the best.”

“In the world? Why do you need to be the best?”

Marco looked at him like he just suggested eating his skates. “If you’re not trying to be the best, what’s the point of doing anything?”

“Uh? Fun?” Miguel tried.

“Yeah, well you can have plenty of fun going to free-skates,” Marco shot back. “Why do you it, then? If competition’s not important to you, why are you up in the big leagues?”

“I love skating,” Miguel answered honestly. Really, he couldn’t think of a better reason. “I’m really good at it. I like competing and I’m lucky enough to be related to top notch skating coaches. I know most kids don’t get these opportunities and I’m happy just to have the chance.”

“That’s a cute sound bite, Rivera,” Marco scoffed. “I’m sure the media would love it. But it’s not going to get you very far in the real world. My primo Ernesto would have gotten the first Olympic gold in skating for Mexico if not for his injury. He didn’t get that far on niceties and motivational phrases your abuela would stitch onto a pillow. He worked hard and pushed himself to be the best.”

“My Tio Hector says Ernesto got his injury _because_ he pushed himself too hard. Athletes need to know their limits.  That’s what my coaches always say.” Miguel held his breath as he waited for an answer. De la Cruz’s famous injury was a touchy subject with fans. He knew bringing it up with an actual relative was about as smart as punching a cactus with your bare hands.

Still, he couldn’t help himself. He remembered when was just starting out, how he idealized De la Cruz. He would always complain to his Tio Hector about how boring the basics were, how he wanted to push himself harder and “seize his moment” like De la Cruz. Hector and Imelda taught him about how “seizing a moment” you aren’t ready for can lead to some very serious consequences. Now, it seemed like Marco could use that advice.

Miguel waited to have his head bitten off, or for Marco to get up with a muttered curse word and leave him in the cold. Neither of those happened. Marco chewed on his lip and stared at the wall for a minute before finally replying, “Cute.”

Miguel let himself breathe again. “It’d look pretty good stitched on a pillow,” he said with a teasing smirk.

Marco smirked back and smacked Miguel with a cushion. He then looked across the room at the other boys where an argument erupted over action vs horror. “Come on,” he said, getting up. “They’ll never get anywhere without our leadership.”

[-]

Miguel was practically shaking in his skates the next day when practice started. Justo had already snuck off to the sound booth and now they were just waiting for their cue. The team kept shooting glances at Miguel and Marco, as if they would somehow know better how long it would take Justo to get everything ready.

Finally, they heard the music come on over the loud speakers. Marco and Miguel locked eyes and gave each other a “here goes nothing” look. The boys lined up on the sides like they planned and took turns showing off their best moves.

Unfortunately, not everyone got a turn. The music suddenly cut off and they looked over to the sound booth just in time to see Justo being chased out by the manager. The coaches looked more confused than angry, which Miguel took as a good sign.

“You want to tell us what just happened?” Hector asked, once everything calmed down.

The boys’ eyes all shot straight to Marco and Miguel. “You guys couldn’t pick music, so we did.” Marco said, skating up to their coaches.

“We voted on in at the sleep over last night,” Miguel added, skating over to join them. “We all agreed on a song and I cut a track for the routine.”

Imelda put her fingertips together in what Miguel mentally dubbed her Lecture Pose. “Boys, we appreciate the initiative, but we are your coaches and we are the ones who get to make these decisions.”

“But you won’t decide,” Miguel argued back.

“So now you don’t get a choice,” Marco added.

“What?” Ernesto cut in. “What are you talking about?”

A smug smile spread across Marco’s face. “I sent a copy of our music to the showrunners for approval using your email address.”

Ernesto’s face immediately went red. “Marco, what have I told you about breaking into my email?”

“I don’t care!” Marco snapped. “We teamed up so that we wouldn’t look like a bunch of unprepared amateurs at the showcase. You guys have been fighting ever since then and we got nothing done.”

“All we want is to skate together, have some fun, and put on a good performance, but we can’t do that if you guys can’t agree on a single thing.”  Can you guys please just work together? Just for a few weeks? Can you be civil?

“Can you start acting like grown ups so that we don’t have to?” Marco added with a sneer.

Hector and Imelda looked at each other and had another one of their mental conversations. “Well, I’m embarrassed,” Hector admitted. “We have been wasting a lot of their time.”

Imelda nodded and turned to the boys. “Alright, I’ll admit, our… creative differences have gotten out of hand. From here on out, we promise there will be progress every practice, right Ernesto?” Imelda turned her head and shot him a sharp glare.

“Right,” Ernesto agreed, although he shot his own glare back, “but no more surprises. We’ll keep your music, but we will make the decisions from here.”

Marco and Miguel agreed and the team finally got around to having a real practice. Miguel couldn’t help but feel cautiously optimistic. If he and Marco could get the rest of their team to get along, then maybe, just maybe, they’ve finally gotten through to their coaches too.


End file.
